


A Bad Idea Gone Worse

by constantlyhungry



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Eating Disorders, Electrical Shocks, M/M, Michael with a squip, Pining, after the og squipcident, michael wants jeremy to love him, more tags to come, poor Mikey, squip is still bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11737131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantlyhungry/pseuds/constantlyhungry
Summary: After the declared "Squipcident" Jeremy dates Christine and Michael's left alone again. In a certain fit of numbness, bad ideas, and self deprivation, Michael takes it upon himself to go out and get some help. Maybe with someone helping him out, he'll be someone Jeremy wants by his side.





	1. Good in Theory

2 months.  _ 2 months _ . Not a phone call, enough texts to count of one hand. What did he do wrong? Michael sat alone in his basement, absentmindedly picked balls of fuzz off his red sweatshirt. It smelled like weed and was due for a wash, but Michael couldn’t bring himself to care. Not like he would be seeing anyone anyways. 

Ever since Jeremy had started dating Christine, Michael had been put on the back burner.  _ Again _ . He let a sigh escape from his chapped lips and evaporate in the cold late night air of his freezing basement. It was dark, both inside and out, Michael’s shitty and visibly-old lamp doing more to amplify the harsh shadows than give off good light. Specifically dark areas such as corners and the interiors of closets only visible through slightly askew doors made Michael feel mildly uneasy. However, the ping in his gut was nothing compared to the horrible wrenching of knowing his best friend was ignoring his existence a second time. He stood on led legs and dragged himself into bed, pulling his sweatshirt off in a single swift motion before collapsing into a boneless pile on top of his Hello Kitty sheets, which he bought to make Jeremy laugh but then just seemed like another smack in the face.

No way it was a coincidence. Jeremy had ditched him twice now, both times in pursuit of someone better, someone cooler, someone more… chill. Maybe there was a reason he only had one friend and couldn't even keep that one down on lock. After all why would anyone want— Michael ran a hand through his hair— to be friends with a loser like him?

A thought that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while shoved itself front and center, demanding the spotlight. In a sudden rush of inspiration and determination, Michael willed himself to stand before sitting down, back straight and eyes focused, in front of his old dresser. He tugged the bottommost drawer open quickly with an iron grip before digging around inside and pulling out a thick wad of cash deemed his “weed savings”. Tomorrow, he would get help, Jeremy would want to be his friend, and everything would go back to how it should be. 

 

**———————————**

 

Worn tires pulled into the mall parking lot with a surprising smoothness Michael found himself unable to appreciate in his current state of mind. He wanted to feel angry as he stepped onto the ice-patched pavement; angry at Jeremy for ignoring him, driving him to this. Angry at himself for thinking this was actually a good idea. And especially angry for his inability to come up with a better, more rational plan. He waited for nerves to light up in his head, explode with doubt and anxiety pushing him away from the crowded mall he swore long ago to never visit alone. But it never came. Michael moved with confidently, eyes narrowed, focused on his mission. Instead of weaving through the crowd, careful not to bump shoulders in fear of confrontation, Michael took quiet note of how people moved around him as if he were a rock in a stream, something impossible to stir by ways of the water in of itself. 

In his head the previous night, Michael had pictured the Payless doors a gate to Heaven, glowing with the hope of better things despite all the shit it took to get there. Instead, he found himself staring at the orange sign and seeing it for what it was. A woman’s shoe store with a sad heavily-sideburned man tapping his impatient fingers on the counter. Michael approached and slammed a stack of twenties in front of the checkout, looking the man dead in the eye. 

“Four hundred?” 

Michael nodded.

The man reached under the counter and pulled out a shoebox, looking irritably at Michael as if he were about to bombard the man with a hundred questions. Instead, he took the shoebox without hesitation and left, brain still lagging a few hours behind of what his body was doing. 

The ride home could be nonexistent for all Michael knew. He remembered none of it, only opening his basement door and plopping down with a pill in hand, green bottle in the other, and an open cardboard box in the recycling. He felt better than he had in months, maybe because he felt nothing or maybe the blind adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he was thankful either way. Soon Jeremy would talk to him again. Soon he wouldn’t have to worry about what to say or how to act, Michael would have smiled if he could. Instead, he opted for downing the pill, holding back his urge to gag. Pills were never his thing. Then, he waited. A minute passed, and suddenly everything was too real. His brain had definitely caught up with his actions and was beating him into the ground. 

Why did he think getting a Squip would be a good idea? Last time was  _ disastrous _ ! The whole school had nearly been turned into zombies, Michael was a week from suicide, and Jeremy. Oh, Jeremy. He had been in so much pain and Michael was still  _ selfish  _ enough to get his very own Master Control Program. No wonder Jeremy didn’t want to be his friend. Who would want to hang out with a pitiful, self centered, self conscious, self deprecating loser like— 

“OW!” 

A sharp pain shot through Michael’s head with enough force to send him reeling backwards into a wall, hitting with enough force to knock his breath out. A high pitched screeching buzzed through his head, weaved through his ears like yarn pulled out from deep in his throat, scratching, itching, twisting, until his legs gave out and reduced him to a pile of pain on the floor.   

_ Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort. _

Michael would have scoffed if he could but the shrill screaming in his ears was more than enough to throw him for a loop.

_ Calibration complete, access procedure initiated. Discomfort level may increase. _

The world turned dizzy, spinning left and right like a torturous carnival tilt-a-whirl, the kind only ever existing in the nightmares of people who feared clowns and fried food. 

_ Accessing: neuro memory, accessing: muscle memory, access procedure: compete.  _

_ Michael Mell, welcome to your super quantum unit intel processor...your Squip. _

The pain stopped. The sound stopped. It left Michael’s head feeling empty and exhausted, limbs heavy from the the agonizing pressure put on them from involuntary strain. He opened his eyes after catching his breath, met with a pair of combat books planted stiffly on the floor in front of his overwhelmed eyes. Hesitantly, Michael raised his head, allowing his eyes to gaze up further, before finally making eye contact with… not quite what he expected. 

“Steve Martin?” he ignored how awful and scratched his voice sounded. The celebrity lookalike in front of him wore a rather unimpressed expression. 

_ Yes, congratulations. If you can guess what year, you’ll win a prize. _

“1987?” he responded, ignoring how the Squip's words dripped with sarcasm. 

“86.”

“Oh… well,” Michael stood up and wavered slightly before finally finding the world still as it should be. “I want my frien-”

_ Friend Jeremy to fall in love with you. _

Michael narrowed his eyes at the computer and shoved balled fists into his oversized hoodie pocket. “I  _ want  _ my friend Jeremy to hang out with me again.” 

As electronic eyes looked him up and down, Michael began to squirm. He never liked being the center of attention, judged, deciphered, unraveled by someone other than himself.

_ It’s doable, but will be difficult. I gather he already has a girlfriend? _

Michael made an obscene groaning sound. “Dude, I just want to be his  _ friend _ .” 

The Squip raised an eyebrow. 

_ I can see inside your head. I know what you want. And I know how hard it will be to get it.  _ It made a vague gesture to Michael’s body.  _ Just look at you. _

“What’s that supposed to mean you oversiz— “

_ First. A shower. _

“What.”

_ This will be far easier if you don’t question me. You want Jeremy to love you, yes? _

Michael searched, but couldn’t find a proper response. Silently, he stalked into the bathroom and closed to door, not feeling the energy to fight with his own head. The Squip stared expectantly. 

“Are you going to leave or…” He felt weird about undressing in front of a Steve Martin doppleganger, no matter how in his head it may be. 

_ I need to assess the ‘situation.’ _

Michael scoffed but nodded, turning on the shower to heat up before tugging off his shirt. He rose an eyebrow at the Squip, who seemed uninterested and completely unfazed. Still feeling very unsure about the sudden turn of events, Michael tugged off his pants and boxers before quickly hopping in the shower, wincing at how cold it still was. 

_ That was unnecessary, _ the Squip drawled, sounding a smallest bit amused. 

“Yeah, well shut up.”

The cool water slowly faded into hotter and hotter temperatures, making Michael’s body burn as fiery drops of water licked his dark skin. It was past the point of comforting, but the slight panic still buzzing through Michael’s head was enough to sufficiently numb the pain. 

He still felt like an idiot for taking something he knew to be so destructive, but even moreso for still thinking this ridiculous plan could actually work. After all, the Squip, in a sense, did succeed in making Jeremy cooler. He had friends  _ other _ than Michael. He had friends  _ better  _ than Michael.

_ My analysis is complete. _

The short teen jolted upon being addressed, it having slipped his mind he was not alone in the steamy bathroom. His feet slipped and slid beneath him, but somehow kept him remaining upright.

“What’s that even mean?” Michael asked, sounding a bit more accusatory than he had meant, but did nothing to correct his tone. 

_ Your upper body is insufficient. You’re too fat. Jeremy won’t like that. _

Michael looked down at his stomach, which jutted out a bit more than he would like... Maybe he could stand to lose a few pounds… 

_ As for your lower half: you seem to be of decent size. Definitely nothing wrong there. Jeremy will find a fair amount of pleasu—  _

“ _ Okay _ ! I don’t need to hear this!” Michael sputtered, face burning deeper than the water’s heat could reach. “I get the point!” 

The Squip sounded smug. _ Burned skin is unattractive. Hurry up. _

Michael finished his shower three minutes later. 


	2. Squip Borne Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Michael discovers a negative unique to his Squip and his stupid old soda.

Michael took the bus to school the next day per his Squip’s instruction. ( _ No one likes that ugly car. Jeremy won’t want to be seen in it. _ ) It was loud and messy, crumpled and torn paper on the ground partnering well with equally destroyed upholstery. The windows were smudged with a large variety of unidentifiable substances and the kid sitting next to Michael clearly didn’t want to be. 

_ If a stranger can’t put up with you for 5 minutes, how can you expect Jeremy to? _

It was starting to become apparent that the Squip was maybe, sort of, just a little bit helpful. It made good points and had already began fixing so many of Michaels “errors”. His biggest problem, the computer had pointed out, was his weight. He needed to be thinner, more attractive.  _ Just because you’re an average weight for your size doesn’t mean you’re attractive.  _ He couldn’t help but take that to heart. Michael’s appearance had never really made the ‘top 5 things I don’t completely hate about myself’ list. It probably never made top 10. In some twisted way, maybe having a computer in his head keeping him honest would do the teen some good. 

Michael stumbled out onto school grounds as soon as the bus doors opened, relieved to finally be rid of that hormone filled deathtrap of shame. He scanned the outside walls, looking for any signs of people he knew. Specifically, Jeremy. Instead, he met eyes with Rich, who immediately jumped to life and flagged Michael over enthusiastically, a large smile slapped onto his fire-licked face. 

_ Smile back. It’s important to build relations with Jeremy’s friends. _

Michael took in a deep breath before sending what he hoped to be an equally bright smile back. He suspected no one in the group really liked him, it was likely more something akin to obligation or pity. After all, Michael had  _ technically  _ saved them that night at the play. 

“Hey, man! What’s up?” Rich called when Michael was within closer range. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, readying a socially acceptable response, when a small shock struck the base of his spine and sent him into an atypical wince. 

_ Take you hands out of your pockets.  _

The sudden flinch was enough whisk away Rich’s 40-watt smile and send the short boy into a small fit of concern.

“Woah, dude, are you okay?” he asked, reaching out a slightly burned hand. 

Michael straightened himself out and sent the short teen a small thankful smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just got a crazy chill.”

“...Oh. Okay.” 

The two entered the building together and walked with a mostly one-sided conversation ushering away any hope of an awkward silence. 

_ You need to provide more input. Jeremy won’t want to give up his friends for you, so you’d better get them to like you. _

Rich had stopped talking. Michael didn’t notice. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Ya seem kinda distant.”

_ Yes, I am just thinking about how funny Jake is. Don’t you agree? _

“Yeah, I’m just just thinkin about how funny Jake is, don’t ya agree?” 

Rich’s face turned a pleasant shade of crimson and he laughed lightly before trailing off into a rather… passionate rant on all the positives of Jake Dillinger, the amount of which seeming to be endless. The mood was light. It took pressure off Michael’s chest and calmed his endlessly panicking heart. This was fine, Rich was nice. Maybe friendship wasn’t so out of reach. 

Michael said goodbye to Rich upon arrival to his first class, history, which he shared with both Brooke and Jake. for the most part, they didn’t talk to him on their own accord, but Michael didn’t really blame them. 

_ Michael. For this to work, connections need to be made.  _

He nodded to himself, an action that went unnoticed by his peers, but made no move to walk over to them. He earned himself a sharp shock. 

_ Jake has not done his homework. Offer him your answers.  _

‘I can’t just randomly go up and talk to him,’ he thought to the Squip, trying to keep his expression blank.

_ But you will. I will supply you with your half of the interaction.  _

Another shock pushed Michael towards Jake’s desk, and he was careful to keep his arms at his side, pocket empty. 

“Hey Michael, what’s up?” 

The Squip began speaking, and Michael followed the words blindly. 

“Hi Jake. I heard you didn’t have the homework.”

He nodded

“And I was wondering if you wanted to copy mine.”

Jake’s face lit up and smiled widely and Michael, who was feeling rather intimidated even with the pleasant expression plastered on the other boy’s face. 

“Oh, man! Are you serious? That’d be sick, I really need a good grade in this class,” he said. 

Michael bit back a ‘then maybe you should work’ and silently handed over the paper, forcing his mouth into a smile. 

“Sure, here.”

Jake thanked him and Michael returned to his seat, briefly registering the bell rang and class officially begin, the teacher’s monotone voice melting into blurred white noise. He knew he didn’t really have to pay attention. The Squip had already told him that it would be supplying all answers for tests and homework from then on. Rain pelted incessantly against the dirty windows as Michael fought sleep. It created a continuous rhythmic beat as a dull roar settled into the background, lulling and coaxing those around it into a relaxing sense of peace.  
Michael didn’t hear any of it.

He was too busy trying to coax away the constant metallic screech in his head, like his brain was constantly channeling relentless audio feedback,

_ Yes. The mountain dew you drank seems to have been past its ‘best by’ date.  _

‘So?’ 

_ So there may be small issues like feedback, small headaches, random shocks, nothing too bad. Deal with it.  _

‘What?! Well, why don't yo-’

_ It annoys Jeremy when people whine. _

Michael stopped complaining. 

 

**———————————**

 

The school cafeteria was just as gross and obstreperous as ever, students in overpriced sportwear huddled in their respective groups at their respective tables. The familiarity and predictability calmed Michael’s buzzing head as he sat in his usual spot next to Jeremy. Predictability was nice. 

_ Greet Jeremy. _

“Hey, Jere what’ve you been up to?” 

“Oh, just hanging out with Christine,” he responded cheerily. 

Christine leaned across the table to make eye-contact. “Hello, Michael!” 

_ Greet Christine.  _

“Hi, Christine.” 

She smiled warmly and turned back to her conversation with Jenna, who seemed to be eating, tweeting, and telling a story at the same time. 

Jake slid a piece of paper across the table to Michael, looking rather cool while doing it. He failed to understand how everything that guy did had an aura of chill. It was kind of off putting. Michael looked at the paper now in front of him. It was his homework. 

“Thanks again for letting me use it, dude,” Jake said. 

“No problem.” 

Once the attention was off him again, Michael finally began to relax. It was always nice to sit next to Jeremy, no matter how ignored he might be. Michael rested his chin in his hand and let himself listen to other conversations lazily. His Squip told him to skip meals every other day, so Michael didn’t eat, despite the lunch his Squip still told him to pack. His stomach grumbled. 

‘Why did I pack a lunch I can’t eat?’

_ Jeremy doesn’t have a lunch today. _

‘And?’

_ Offer Jeremy your lunch. _

‘Oh.’

“Hey, man,” Michael nudged Jeremy’s arm. “I’m not hungry, want my lunch?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah totally. Here,” Michael dug through his backpack before pulling out a brown bag containing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich— which just then occurred to him was Jeremy’s favorite lunch. Duh. 

Jeremy happily accepted the sandwich and thanked Michael before turning back to start up a conversation with Christine. Michael felt his stomach twist, the hope of Jeremy continuing to talk to him having been run into the ground.

_ It’s okay. Time is needed.  _

‘How much time though?’

_ That depends on how well you can listen. _

‘So if I do everything you say, it’s guaranteed I’ll get Jeremy back?’

_ Yes. If you follow through with my instruction correctly Jeremy will love you. _

Michael didn’t argue with the Squip’s use of love. Instead, he moved his eyes so they met with the blue-hued celebrity, who was standing beside the table, and blinked slowly.

‘You’re sure?’

_ Positive. _

‘Okay, so what’s my next move?’

_ First you will turn back to the table. They’re staring at you. _

Michael snapped his head back over to the table, quickly realizing what it had meant. All conversation stopped all eyes were on him. 

“What were you staring at?” Rich asked, sounding slightly weirded out. 

He started to feel clammy and nervous under the judging eyes of his peers.

‘A little help?’

You saw a bug. 

“I saw a bug,” he tried to say coolly, but it come out too fast and an octave higher than normal. He saw Jeremy raise an eyebrow in his peripheral.  

“What kind of bug?” 

“A bee.” 

“Michael, there aren't any bees in the winter.”

He sputtered out an awkward “Pshh, I don’t know then what do I look like some kind of bug nerd?” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head, before bolting upright in his seat, then doubling over in pain. Tears pricked in his eyes as an unusually powerful and long lasting crash of electricity gripped his spine with burning craws.

“Michael?!” a voice. He subconsciously hoped it was Jeremy’s but couldn’t tell through the screaming in his head. 

“Dude are okay?!” 

The world span for a minute, the motion and mix of concerned voices filling his head not aiding in his quick recovery. Suddenly, it was over. He hesitantly looked up the meet the varying expressions of Jeremy and his friends, ranging from shock, to concern, to horror. 

Michael stood up quickly and shouted “I have to use the bathroom!” a little bit louder than what could possibly be socially acceptable before bolting out of the lunchroom and to the nearest bathroom stall.  

“What the hell was that?!” he shouted openly at the Squip, who had his arms crossed. 

_ I tried to shock you for that horrendous social display but you and your outdated Mountain Dew damaged my system. Remember? _

“ _ Small _ shocks you said! God, I knew this would be a disaster! Why did I ever think— even for a second— that  _ you _ could be a good idea?!” 

_ It is not my fault you are not literate enough to read an expiration date.  _

Michael deflated against the wall, slowly resing into a sitting position with his knees curled against his chest.

“Why did I think this would work?” he said in hushed whisper. 

The Squip seemed to switch gears. In a moment, the harsh expression fell from it’s face and was replaced with a smirk. 

_ Oh, is that what this is about? Well do not worry. I estimate the time of Jeremy coming around to being about 4 weeks. 3 if we can cut down your weight even more and get rid of those ugly habits. _

“And all I have to do is?”

_ And all you have to do is obey.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love comments, hit me up with any feedback or errors, any positives are nice too. See ya next update <3


	3. Failed Meal and Fucked Up Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's fuckin spiraling.

 

Michael ditched school after his outburst in the bathroom. ( _ I will feed you any missed information from your classes. For now, laying low is the best option. _ ) He was instructed to run home, as opposed to walking or wandering the campus until busses arrive. The first minute or two was shockingly peaceful, the cold air brushed his cheeks, the sting a gentle caress compared the abuse his spine faced nearly an hour ago. 

However, Michael was, to say the least, woefully out of shape, and couldn’t keep up the quick pace after a pitifully small amount of time.  Luckily, he had the best kind of motivator there is. The very real threat of intense physical and psychological pain. Every time his steps slowed to a steady jog, he received a shock of varying strengths and persistence, some a bit too harsh due to the Squip’s inability to control it. After what felt like hours, Micahel finally arrived home, exhausted. His door was locked. He didn’t have a key. 

_ Considering you have nothing to do and no way of getting in, take a 5 minute break and we’ll start again.  _

Michael plopped on the curb and rested his head in his freezing hands, icy fingertips feeling like hot fire when colliding with his cold cheeks. He was so tired, but the wind and chilled air shooed away the sweat that would have otherwise been glistening on his forehead. 

_ Okay. Enough rest. Get up. _

“Oh come on,” Michael groaned aloud. “There’s  _ no way _ that was 5 minutes.”

_ What did I say about complaining. _

Michael stood up silently, feeling defeated. The Squip ‘tsked’ him.

_ No, I want to hear you say it. _

“Jeremy doesn’t like people that complain.” 

_ What else does Jeremy dislike? _

Michael fiddled with his hands, wishing they could be safe inside his warm pocket. “People that are too,” he gulped and looked down. “People that are too fat.”

_ In conclusion…  _ The Squip made a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

“Jeremy doesn’t like me.”

_ Yet. He doesn’t love you yet.  _

Michael attempted a weak smile. The Squip was going to help, he would be okay. He would be with his friend soon. 

_ Now get moving.  _

 

By Friday, Michael lost enough weight as to where the Squip allowed him a full meal. He was ecstatic. Going a week on granola bars and protein powder was horrid and Michael had been feeling sort of woozy. 

_ A salad, some fruit, and a burger. Try to eat it without the bun.  _ It looked up up and down before adding a degrading,  _ That is, if you can manage. _

That night, Michael ate his burger without the bun. He scarfed down his meal quickly, feeling insanely satisfied by the time he was finished, despite not really being the best cook. The Squip had instructed him to the best of its ability, but it didn’t help all that much. 

Michael pulled his phone from his pocket after cleaning up his dinner (not like his parents were ever around to do it for him) and suddenly felt slightly crestfallen. Part of him hoped he had a text from Jeremy, usually he would get at least that every other Friday or so. Instead, he was met with an instagram notification from  _ Heereishere.  _ He clicked on it hesitantly, not shocked to find a selfie of his best friend with Christine, both of them looking happier than Michael had ever seen. But that’s not what hurt. What hurt was the caption. 

“No one in the world I’d rather hang out with,” he read aloud bitterly, the happiness and satisfaction from a nice meal replaced with an ugly twist knotting itself deep in his gut. He felt sick. 

Suddenly the Squip appeared right in front of him, startling Michael and nearly making him drop his phone. It had a huge shit eating grin and a glint of passion in its eye Michael didn’t think anything electronic could possess. 

_ Michael! _ It sounded scarily happy.  _ You did NOT just think that! _

“Think what?! What are you talking about?!

_ Do not act so innocent. I can hear your inner thoughts, I know what is going on in your mind! _

“Okay…? And?”  
_You TOTALLY just thought of getting rid of Christine!_

Michael froze. The Squip was right, but it was never something he’d actually consider. 

_ Yeah, it would not work because if you hurt Christine, Jeremy will hate you more than he already does. But I LOVE your way of thinking.  _

Now he felt really sick. Michael dashed straight through the Squip and into the nearest restroom, emptying his nice dinner into the porcelain bowl. God this situation was so messed up. 

“I would never,” he whispered to himself for reassurance. “I would never, I would never, I would never.” 

It repeated like a mantra in his head, swirling and twisting until front and center in his mind— the only thought alive. He felt awful.

_ Oh, Michael. That’s because you are awful. What kind of friend would want to take away another's happiness? _

Michael retched. 

_ But this is why you are going to get better. Repeat after me.  _

Tears streamed down his face.

_ Everything about you is so terrible.  _

A broken sob left his mouth, quickly cut off by another attempt to empty his already barren stomach. 

_ Repeat. _

A shock pulled the words from his burning throat.

“E-everything about me… is so terrible.”

_ Good. Everything about you makes me want to die.  _

Michael wiped his mouth and looked straight ahead, feeling almost as bad as he had those months ago.

“Everything about me makes me want to die.”

_ Good. But you see, if you obey, everything will be so wonderful! You will be so wonderful! Jeremy will talk to you. Jeremy will love you. It will be perfect.  _

“Perfect,” he whispered back.

_ Correct. Now get water and go to bed. You’re getting up early tomorrow to run.  _

On shaking feet, Michael dragged himself to the basement, not bothering to shut the door before collapsing. He felt like a wreck, like the biggest mistake to walk the Earth. And not only was he a waste of space, but a waste of good food, apparently. He thought sadly to the meal now lying waste somewhere in the sewers below New Jersey, probably wishing it had never been made. Michael wished the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! ALSo feedback and criticism if you have any to offer.


	4. A Small Effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy finally gets in touch.

Jeremy wasn’t feeling well on Friday. After saying goodbye to Christine, there was an unwelcome feeling in his gut that something was wrong. But that didn’t make sense. Christine and him were perfectly happy, so why does his worrisome nature have to butt in and make him feel uneasy. The only unusual thing was how well his Squip seemed to be doing lately. On Monday, it started acting up again, but Jeremy paid it no mind. He was stronger now, no way dumb enough to let it control his life again. Instead, he listened boredly, sometimes humoring the glitching voice with a response. Lately though, it had been acting crazy. Probably broken. 

_ I’m not broken Jeremy. You are. Just like your sad excuses for relationships. _

That got his attention.

“My relationships are fine. Christine and I are doing great,” he said confidently.

_ Who said I was talking about Christine? _

“What? Who else would you be talking about?”

_ Michael’s been acting strange. _ It sounded like he knew something Jeremy didn’t. It wasn't a great feeling. _ What do you think happened on Monday? _

“Monday? Oh, that. Well, he never said anything about it so he’s probably fine.”

_ Did you even text and ask how he was? _

“Of course I… Oh. Wait, actually I don’t think I did. I… I was busy with Christine” 

_ Best friend of the year.  _

“I’ll ask him to hang out tomorrow.” Jeremy wasn’t a bad friend. He couldn’t be. 

_ You know what it looked like?  _ It sounded so smug. Jeremy was starting to feel a bit concerned. 

“What?”

_ It looked like he got electrocuted.  _

Jeremy’s eyes widened and he looked up from his phone quickly, before really thinking about what it said. 

“N-no way. It’s impossible.” 

_ Is it? _

“It is,” Jeremy said with finality. “And if you don’t shut up right now, I’m getting Red.” 

The Squip was suddenly gone, but Jeremy still felt a bit off. He unlocked his phone and went to ‘Player 2’ in contacts. When he opened the messages, guilt chewed at the back of his brain. He hadn’t texted Michael in nearly a month. He had been too busy with… Christine. Jeremy grumbled to himself. God, he really did suck. But Michael wouldn’t mind. He always says all he wants is Jeremy to happy. And now, he is. Michael would never keep him from happiness. 

**Want to hang out tomorrow?**

When his friend didn’t respond in minutes, Jeremy was a bit confused. It wasn’t that late was it? He checked his clock; 11:35. Michael never went to sleep before midnight. Trying to think nothing of it, Jeremy set his phone down and did his best to fall asleep. 

He woke up the next day only to be met with the same confusion from last night. 

**_sure come over whenever you want_** was received at 6:12 am. 

6:12 AM. Michael was never awake that early unless he didn’t sleep at all, but then he would have just responded right when he got Jeremy’s text.

Even though it was only 8, Jeremy pulled off his covers and went to get dressed. Easily, he pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a black shirt, grabbing a nice looking hoodie to keep himself covered. Sure, it wouldn’t do much warmth wise, but he had stopped wearing poofy jackets and sweaters after the whole Squip ordeal. It made him feel cooler. 

On his way to Michael’s house, Jeremy stopped by 7-11 to grab two cups of coffee and some snacks. A couple minutes later, he arrived at his friend's door with full arms, and opted to kick instead of knock. Every time he waited for someone to get the door, he thought of something his Squip told him a long time ago. ( _ Always wait 20 seconds before answering the door. Any longer and it’s rude, and less and it’s weird. _ )

He humored himself by counting in his head. 17...18...19… the door swung open and for a second Jeremy was in shock. Then he felt a little weird, but shook it as one of those weird coincidences like when you count down for the school bell to ring and it does right when you think ‘now’. Michael stepped aside and let Jeremy enter his house. Something was wrong. The usual warmth was gone, familiar scent of weed so absent it was almost as if it were never there in the first place. Michael… looked like Michael. His hair was fixed, his face seemed a bit thinner than Jeremy remembered it being, and his sweatshirt looked freshly washed (and ironed), but it was still Michael. And for some reason, that was huge relief. 

“Hey man, it’s been awhile, how’s it goin, what’ve you been up to?” Part of Jeremy regretted asking. Something flashed in Michael’s eyes and Jeremy prayed it wasn’t hurt or sadness. Not again. 

The pause between his question and Michael’s answer was a bit longer than normal, and Jeremy adjusted his armful of goods. Michael seemed to notice.

“I’m good. Haven’t really done much,” he started walking to the kitchen. “You can set that stuff down in here.”

Jeremy trailed behind his short companion cautiously, trying not drop anything. He let it all go onto the counter before gently setting down both cups of coffee, proud of his minimalized spillage. 

“That’s good,” Jeremy replied to the obvious lie. “Hey, I brought some cool ranch doritos, I know they’re your favorite!” He held up the bag proudly, as if Michael wouldn’t believe him otherwise. 

His friend seemed unsure. Michael turned his head slightly and his eyes seemed to meet with something. He looked focused and his eyebrows creased the way they did when he was in deep thought. Jeremy followed his line of sight, but didn’t quite get what the short teen was looking at. 

_ Peculiar, isn’t it Jeremy?  _

The voice wasn’t what made him jump. It was the glitchy Squip that appeared next to him. Jeremy didn’t know it could do that anymore— it never seemed strong enough. The glitchy Keanu Reeves also immediately looked to the same direction Michael was.  Jeremy felt out of the loop. He didn’t like it. Not at all. 

“Hey, Mikey? You there?”

Michael jolted a bit before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, sorry man. I guess I just zoned out,” Michael laughed nervously.

“Okay…? Here.” Jeremy slid the doritos across the counter and Michael gave them a weary look. 

“No thanks, Jere. Let’s just go play Apocalypse of the Damned or something.”

Michael led the way to the basement and Jeremy followed, looking back to the counter as he did. It was weird… everything about this seemed off. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but the atmosphere of calm and happy seemed to have disappeared, leaving a cold and unsettling weight in its place.

“Sure, okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all comments and criticism appreciated, thanks for reading


	5. Spiraling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically everything gets worse and I won't apologize for it.

Michael was surprised to say the least. Jeremy had actually texted first! The initial excitement, however, was soon replaced with a nauseous worry. This was his chance to show Jeremy he could actually be cool, and not just some loser that smokes pot all day. After heading to the basement, Michael made quick work of setting up the untouched game console. It hadn’t felt right playing without his friend.

“Apocalypse of the Damned is already in there?” Jeremy asked, clearly confused as to why Michael didn’t make the trip to his game case. “Have you been playing without me?”

“No, I just haven’t really played any games since…”

“Oh.”

_Idiot. Wait for me to tell you what to say. You’ve made him uncomfortable._

Michael nodded and sat down next to Jeremy in his red beanbag chair. He had recently washed both of the chair’s covers to get rid of the smell of weed. Smoking weed alone wasn’t cool.

The small windows near the basement’s ceiling housed frost and signs of the winter’s first snow. The air was chilled and made Michael acutely aware of his broken heater. His parent’s weren't there to fix it. Michael didn’t have the money to pay someone. So instead, he let guilt creep up his spine while watching Jeremy shiver out of the corner of his eye. Michael silently thanked any god over them for video game sounds, because his attempts at conversation turned stiff and he wasn’t sure whether he could survive the silence— Squip or not.

Ever since the Squipcident, Jeremy never wore big sweatshirts or jackets, and it was making Michael a bit self conscious. He picked at his sleeves, fraying the ends, earning himself another shock. He jolted in his seat, and Jeremy either didn’t care, or didn’t say anything.

_Perhaps it would be best for you to remove your sweatshirt. It is rather unbecoming and many of your gross habits attach to it._

The thought of losing his only source of protection was terrifying. But his Squip was always right. It would get Jeremy to… love him. To love him back. He just had to obey.

Hesitantly, Michael paused the game and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He briefly wondered if it had always been this cold and he was just too thick to notice. However, Jeremy’s gaze tore his thoughts away. He could feel those eyes boring holes into his arms and stomach, barely concealed by his slightly tight short sleeve shirt. Michael hoped he would be impressed by how much weight he had already lost. Instead, Jeremy looked away, something negative poorly concealed behind big blue eyes. Michael felt tears well up. He still wasn’t good enough?

_You weight is not yet ideal. With time Michael, he will change his mind._

“Everything about me is so terrible,” he whispered, voice barely at the level of a whisper.

Michael swore he saw Jeremy tense, but when his friend didn’t immediately say anything, he sighed in relief, believing he wasn't heard. He was wrong.

“What did you say?” Jeremy asked.

_You screwed up. Tell him the truth or he’ll be mad._

Michael averted his gaze. “E-everything about me is so terrible?”

_Good, you got it._

“Go on,” Jeremy urged. “Michael is there something you want to say next?” He sounded desperate. Michael felt sick.

_Truth._

He buried his head in his hands, digging into his closed eyes with the heel of his palm. “Everything about me make me wanna die.”

Two hands grabbed his shoulders and suddenly Jeremy was in his face.

“Who told you that?! Where did you hear it?!”

_You didn't need to hear it._

“I… I didn’t need to hear it.”

_You already knew._

“I already knew.”

Jeremy looked horrified. The awful twisting of his pained expression made Michael wish there was something in his stomach to throw back up. Self deprecation wasn’t anything new. Why was he acting like this?

“ _Who told you.”_

“No one! I just… it was just, the truth!”

“Michael. If someone told you that you had better tell me or I’m leaving.”

Michael reached for his sweatshirt. He needed the warmth, the familiar scent, something to keep his from breaking down then and there. The Squip gave him a slightly too strong shock for disobeying, and Jeremy seemed to connect the dots.

“No. You _didn’t_.”

He couldn’t find a voice to respond with.

“Seriously?! After everything it did to Rich? After everything it did to _me_?!”

His throat was too tight to release the sob it held. He was being choked by his own brain, and silently hoped it was enough to kill him. Jeremy’s breath was heavy. Just loud enough to be heard over the screech ringing in Michael’s ears.

“You…” he paused, and Michael could see, even through panicked eyes, the world building in his friend's chest. “Fuck you, Michael.”

The words stuck in Michael’s ears like a bullet in an open wound, doing horribly well to block the sound of thundering footsteps and his slamming front door. He stumbled into the bathroom, words trailing behind obediently as he retched emptily into the toilet. His knuckles turned white from gripping the bowl too hard, and his knees ached from the cold tiles. Michael felt none of it.

After a painful half hour, he trudged out of the bathroom, feeling disgustingly alone. The only real proof he had of Jeremy’s presence that afternoon was an indentation in the otherwise untouched beanbag chair, and an unbearable ache in his chest.  His Squip seemed to be shut off as well, for the time being. Emotional overload? Michael couldn’t care. He staggered over and flopped face first on his bed with a noise that was too weak to be a sob and too harsh for a sigh. Hoping not to wake up, he grabbed a small handful of sleeping pills and downed them dryly, knowing he didn’t actually take enough to let death walk through his door. He would just let it knock.

Michael stayed in bed all through Sunday, and refused to get up for anything other than the restroom. The same went for Monday, and Tuesday, before the craws trailing down his throat became too much and he resigned to the kitchen for a glass of water. He filled a pitcher and two water bottles, grabbed a few granola bars, and headed back downstairs with the full intention of staying there for the next week. Wednesday, however, his plans were ruined with a knock on his door. When he didn’t answer after a few minutes, he heard it again. Then, a large slam, clearly meaning someone was in his house.

Michael hoped it was a murderer.

Instead, the door to his basement room was nearly flung off its hinges and Rich came barreling down the stairs, looking more concerned than he had even seen the short boy look. One glance at Michael, and he sighed with relief.

“Oh thank god. I thought I was about to see a corpse.”

Michael didn’t laugh. The comment might not have fully met his ears. He looked at Rich curiously, not having to speak in order to question why he was there. Rich strolled in and plopped in Jeremy’s beanbag, making Michael flinch a bit.

“You haven’t been at school since last Thursday, not since that freakout in the lunchroom,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “And Jeremy told me what happened. I have to know. Is it true?”

Michael looked away, eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall.

“Michael, did you take a Squip?”

He bit his lip and nodded. Who cares if Rich hates him too? No one could hate him more than he hated himself anyways.

He braced himself for yelling. For cursing. For the inevitable relentless hatred he was about to endure. Michael wrenched his eyes closed, deciding it best not to see his fate sealed as friendless loser with his own eyes. The image would never leave his head.

But there were no harsh words, no screaming or cruelty. Just a sudden shifting on his mattress and a soft voice speaking closer than he would have expected.

“Can I hug you?”

Michael’s head shot up, and he looked at Rich in bewilderment. Rich opened his arms welcomingly, albeit awkwardly, and Michael quickly shifted into them, his touch starved state overpowering the screaming suspicion telling him no, that it was a trap.

Rich rubbed his back comfortingly.

“I get it, man. Will you tell me why?”

Eyes dangerously close to overflowing, Michael sniffed deeply to keep his nose from leaking, nodding his head while pulling away.

“Jeremy,” he choked out.

“Jeremy?” There's the anger. “Did he make you take one?! I swear to god—”

“No! No. He… he started ignoring me again. I figured if the only thing I’m here for left, then I— I…:

“Then you had nothing to lose.”

He nodded again, harshly rubbing away the few tears to escape his eye.

“Is it here now? Is it talking?”

“No. It hasn’t said much since Jeremy told me to fuck off,” he laughed dryly.

“HE SAID WHAT?!”

Michael winced at the volume, but couldn’t help to feel good knowing someone cared after all. Who would have guessed Rich of all people.

_Don’t let him fool you Michael. He doesn’t really care._

The shift in atmosphere must have been noticed, because Rich quickly put a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“It’s back, isn’t it? Just ignore it. Listen to my voice.”

_I know what’s best for you Michael. If you had listened Jeremy could be at your side right now. Not this sad place holder._

“I’m not leaving Michael. I’m going to stay, and then we’re going to school tomorrow. Together.”

“Together?” Michael whispered.

“Together.”

 

**———————————**

 

Michael walked into first period feeling like every set of eyes was on him. Jake and Brooke both smiled his way, but he remained wary of their intentions. Rich had been nice enough to walk him to class, but there was heavy doubt in his mind the kindness was contagious. He sat in the back and half listened to the teacher, the voice in his head far too distracting. At the end, hey were given a pop quiz on the material they had studied that week. Michael aced it, despite his absence.

_No, idiot. The answers are C, B, A, C, C, B, A, D. The written answer is February 24, 1920._

In science, the only period he shared with Jeremy, he thankfully also shared with Rich. They were to write a hypothesis as to what metal best conducted electricity. He had to work with his table, who yelled at him for thinking the answer was gold,

_It is. They must be dumber than you._

when they all believed it to be copper. Rich yelled at them for yelling, and he, along with two others, were dragged from class for excessive cursing. The correct answer was gold, Jeremy didn’t look at Michael once.

During PE, they played dodgeball, which Michael would usually dread. Kids often targeted him last, going for their friends first, but when it came down to him, there was no mercy for being a loser.

_Go for the kid with glasses first._

_Take a step to the right in 2 seconds._

_The brown haired man in the orange shirt isn’t looking. Throw now, aim higher than you think you should._

Michael’s team won and he received a grand total of two high-fives and six glares from members of the opposite team. Hitting some popular kids suddenly felt like a mistake. Michael felt sick.

In the hallway between periods 4 and 5, Michael saw Jeremy giving him a deathly look, before turning the opposite direction. He never thought he would plead for the company of Rich.

 _You’re weak. You latch to the first person to give you attention, no matter how much you know they hate you_.

At lunch, Michael wasn’t sure where to sit. He hadn’t actually brought anything to eat, therefore didn’t need a surface on which to do so, but the floor looked dirty and there was no way he would be accepted at any other table. Rich however, dragged him over to the usual table and sat him in his usual seat, right next to Jeremy. Then, everyone sat in shock as he grabbed Jeremy by the back of his shirt collar and pulled the lanky teen from his seat, promptly filling it out himself. He sent Jeremy a rather passive aggressive smile.

“You can sit in my seat, or on the floor,” he looked at Michael, who was practically shaking. “Or in the trash, take your pick.”

Jeremy opted for Rich’s seat next to Jake, who, aside from being very surprised, didn’t seem to mind the other teen’s company.

Lunch passed quickly, and every time Michael was visibly uncomfortable, Rich would pat him on the back and offer him a bite of his sandwich, an offer which was always declined. His Squip was silent the rest of the period. But for a reason so obvious it was painful, Michael barely kept tears from his eyes.

 

**———————————**

  


They all left the cafeteria together. Michael really didn’t know how it all went wrong so fast. He bumped shoulders with Jeremy, who in turn, told him to “watch where the hell he was going.”

In a second, Jeremy was up against a locker, Rich’s scarred hand wrapped deathly tight around the front of his shirt.

“Listen up, Heere!” he snarled. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You have NO RIGHT to be mad at Michael.”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know!” Jeremy shouted back.

Rich pulled his arm back and raised his fist, eyes burning with an anger Michael didn’t fully understand the reasoning behind. Jake grabbed Rich by the waist, struggling to hold his own as the small teen whipped side to side beneath his grip.

Brooke, Chloe, and Jenna went to Jeremy, trying to calm him down (well, everyone except Chloe, who was busy telling him what a dick he was being) as Christine, the saint, walked to Michael’s side just as his knees gave out.

Michael crumpled on the floor as tears free flowed onto the floor silently. Well, almost silently. Heaving breaths were pulled from his throat mercilessly, sounding raw and broken, drowned out by all the commotion around him. It was too much. His head was screaming, the Squip’s ever- present audio feedback blared within the confines of his skull, and he couldn’t figure out how he could feel so empty and yet feel every emotion all at once.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Christine shouted. “You’re upsetting Michael.”

And then it was quiet. And Michael had never been more grateful for the girl that indirectly and accidentally ruined his life.

 

**———————————**

 

Jeremy was at a loss for what to. He could clearly see how quickly Michael was barreling down towards panic attack city, but the hurt and anger swarming in his head, scratching at his skull, prevented him from doing anything about it. It fought back the guilt with bared teeth and readied claws, shoving it further and further down his throat until feeling sorry for his friend was the furthest thing from his mind.

Christine held out a hand, and Jeremy felt unfair jealousy boil in his already overflowing head. Michael reached out to take it, but quickly relapsed into a ball, body jolting horrifically. He opened his mouth and screamed a blood curtailing, ear ripping, throat tearing scream. Then, he collapsed completely onto the floor, limbs limp and eyes drooped shut in an eerily peaceful way. One of the girls screamed. Rich ran to his side, shoving past Jeremy as he did.

“Is he… you know?” Brooke whispered, fear shaking her words.

Jeremy held his breath as Rich held two fingers to Michael’s wrist, not releasing it until a heartbeat was found. Relief flooded Jeremy’s system, and the anger finally boiled down enough to allow space for confusion.

Rich saw, and looked Jeremy in the eye, tension strong in the silence.

“He got electrocuted. Jeremy, care to explain yourself?”

What.

“Why me?! I didn’t do this!”  
“You didn’t?! Why do you think he got one in the first place?!”

“BECAUSE HE’S MAD!” Jeremy screamed, wrenching his eyes shut.

_He’s mad because you got what you wanted and he’s stuck being a loser all by himself._

“THAT I GOT WHAT I WANTED AND HE REFUSES TO CHANGE!”

_That you have other friends and don’t have to spend every second by his side._

“THAT I HAVE NEW PEOPLE TO TALK TO OTHER THAN HIM, THAT I CAN STILL BE HAPPY WITH.”

_That you can be happy while he’s stuck in a pathetic suicidal state._

“That I get to be happy while he's stuck in a pathetic... suicidal... state?” Jeremy trailed off, all to aware of how he just played directly into his Squip’s hand. How had it gotten so powerful again?

_Remember what Michael told you about the play?_

He didn’t have time to remember, because before he could even attempt to think back, A fist had connected to his face, and they were back to square one, with everyone pulling Rich away as he screamed threats Jeremy hoped couldn’t be filled.

_You should know. It only takes one Squip to activate another._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so nice! Thank you for your comments, they make me so happy! You're the best motivators out there, and I hope to hear more.


	6. Something Evil This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More squit (squip shit)

Michael woke up at home. He felt… something. It wasn’t quite the lingering nothingness he had felt while Jeremy ignored him, nor was the burning, stabbing sadness of self hatred he had bathed in during previous days. He couldn't decipher whether the painful hollowness was due to recent events or the fact that he hadn’t eaten in what had to be days. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t keep food down anyways. 

_ We need to devise a new plan.  _

Michael laughed, throat in clear need of water. He reached for the bottle next to his bed and took a large swig. 

“Yeah, ya think?”

_ I do. First: some issues are obvious, and must be eradicated before further development in your relationship.   _

“Like what?”

_ Your weight has reached a sufficient low. However, you refuse to take my social input. Your horrid conversational skills have gotten you nowhere. You looked pathetic crying in that hallway. Jeremy would want a boyfriend, not someone to babysit.   _

“So I should just repeat what you say, word for word?”

_ Precisely. Let’s practice.  _

“O-okay.”  
_Hello, Rich._

“Hello, Rich?” Why that?

The basement door opened slightly.

“Michael? Did you say my name?” Rich’s voice called, startling the poor teen half to death.

“Rich?! What are— augh!” Michael wished for a punishment other than shocking.

_ Yes, I did. Will you bring me my phone? _

“Yes. Will you bring me my phone?” A small shock, enough to make him jump, but not be painful. The Squip cursed, clearly having wanted it to be worse.

_ Word for word, idiot. _

“Sure man. No problem.”

Rich crossed the room in quick strides, baggy sweatpants Michael didn’t remember him wearing swishing as he did so. Before passing the device over, Rich turned it on and glanced at some notifications on the screen. His face darkened and he passed the phone to Michael hurriedly before rushing out of the room. Curiously, Michael read the message for himself, shocked momentarily to see it was from Jeremy. 

**Tell Rich to call me. Goodbye.**

The message was cryptic in Michael’s groggy mind, but he understood the end. Moreso, he understood that’s what it was. The end. Jeremy was done with him, Squip or non, he would never be enough. Michael wanted to cry, but felt numb. He wanted to lash out, but he wasn’t feeling the something anymore. Something was gone, and it left him feeling gray. 

He heard yelling through the door. Rich’s thundering footsteps slammed loudly as he paced, lisp prominent through anger. A few “it’s you that doesn’t understand”s were passed, a couple “I won’t do what you did”s and a clearly abrupt end. Michael assumed Rich had hung up. 

The suspicions were confirmed as the short teen stomped into the room and tossed himself into Jeremy’s beanbag facefirst. 

“He wants me to stop talking to you. He said it’s ‘dangerous’.”

Michael froze.

_ And why is that. _

“And why is that?” It sounded better in Michael’s ears as a question. 

“I don’t know, dude. He’s probably just getting pissy that I didn’t take his side.”

Michael didn’t know how to respond. He was never good at dealing with this kind of stuff. Luckily, it seemed the Squip didn’t want him to, because it supplied no words to puppeteer through his mouth.  

“But how are you?” Rich changed the subject. “I’ve never seen a shock that strong.”

_ I took my Squip with expired mountain dew like the illiterate idiot I am and now its database cannot control the strength of electric shocks. _

Michael repeated the words back to Rich, who nodded along with wide eyes.

“Woah, that sucks. I never even thought about that.”

Rich shifted a bit and averted his gaze, looking down at the shaggy floor before speaking again.

“And ya know? Squips say a lot of awful things. And… I know it’s hard to deny the voice in your head, but I think you should get rid of it.”

“What?” Michael sat up quickly, setting aside the sudden screech in his brain in favor of listening to the shorter teen.

“It’s just… you’ve said some not very nice things about yourself recently. Maybe it’s because of Jeremy,” he sighed, “but I had one too. And it wasn’t good. You should know, if I knew where to get it, I would be all for shoving Red down your throat.”

“I can’t get rid of it.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I need it. It wants me to succeed. It’s just hurting me because… because that what it has to do.”

“...Michael—”

“No, Rich. At least not yet. It will help me, I know it,” Michael said with finality, feeling a bit uncomfortable as his Squip radiated smug pride from inside his head. 

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but… take care of yourself okay? Have you been eating properly?”

_ I have been eating the right amount _ .

“I’ve been eating the right amount.”

Rich’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I asked. Michael, look me in the eyes and say you’ve been eating a healthy amount.”

Michael’s eyes stung and he could feel his throat lock. Panic built after a few seconds, the knowledge of silence being conformation waking him queasy. But then, His breathing slowed, and his mouth moved against its will, eyes locking involuntarily with Rich’s. 

“I have been eating a healthy amount of food,” a voice said, almost his but a bit off in a way Michael couldn’t place. 

“...Okay, good.” 

Rich’s phone chimed, and he pulled out of his pocket angrily, the hard expression dissipating upon actually reading the message. 

“It’s from Jake. He wants me to come over, but I’ll totally say no if you want.”

_ Don’t be a burden. Say you don’t mind.  _

“No, go ahead, I don’t mind.”

“Michael. Are you  _ sure  _ you’ll be fine on your own?”

_ Thank you for your concern, Rich. Yes, I will be fine.  _

“Thank you for your concern, Rich. Yes, I will be fine,” Michael smiled best he could, fairly sure it came off as a grimace, making Rich all the more hesitant to leave. 

“Okay… You have my number. Call me the second anything happens. If your Squip so much as says something rude, I’ll be by your side.”

_ I will. _

“I will.”

And Michael was alone again.

  
  


**———————————**

  
  


The next day, he was relieved to arrive at school. Michael was so glad Rich had come forward to say what he did, because the Squip was beginning to toe the line between its own entity and an actual part of Michael’s brain. Having the line redrawn was refreshing. 

However, things started off differently than Michael had hoped they would.. Rich didn’t walk him to his locker or first period as he had every other morning, which Michael played off pretty well, shakily convincing himself that Rich had just forgot, or was late to school. Definitely not ignoring him. No way. 

In science, when he would usually sit next to Rich until the bell rang, he didn’t. Or, couldn’t, rather. He had tried, but Rich’s bag was on the seat next to him and when Michael asked if he could move it, he was promptly ignored. 

_ He’s tired of you. _

‘No he’s not.’

_ He is. _

Michael returned to his own seat, deciding he’d rather sit alone than look like the loser who’s getting rejected. 

‘Maybe he’s just… just super focused or something?’

_ Maybe. _

And it was the same all day. In the halls, nothing; not even a sideways glance. He didn’t get a glare, which Jeremy was at least courteous enough to share, just a stony silence and painfully blank expression. His thing with Jeremy wasn't good, but it was something. Michael needed something, because if people were going to act like he didn’t exist anyways, then he might as well not. 

During lunch, Michael didn’t know what happened— or what would have happened, anyways. He opted for a good ol fashioned bathroom campout, just like old times, as to avoid the likely awkwardness and pain of being ignored by not only his best friend, but the person that had helped him through it. 

After the bell rang was when it all went from bad to worse. Michael hurried from the stall he had barricaded himself in and was making his way down the hall when he saw him again.  _ Both  _ of them again. He took a deep breath and held it. 

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, fuck, fuck, I’m totally gonna cry.’

_ You do not need Rich, Michael. You have me now.  _

‘What happened, why is he ignoring me?’ he questioned silently, discarding the Squip’s previous statement in a quick descent to panic. 

_ Rich wasn’t helping our plan. He isn’t necessary.  _

‘Did you—?’

_ Rich clearly does not want you.  _

‘But why would—’

_ He clearly does not like that you have me. Why else would he have said what he did? _

‘That doesn’t—’

_ Michael. He tried to make me go away. Why would you want him around after that?  _

Michael was going to say something else, but he was cut off by Rich suddenly releasing a scream akin to Michael’s second attack. Jeremy, who wasn’t far across the hall, beat Michael to the punch and was hunched over him in seconds. Jake and Chloe saw this and came running as well, and in a second, the whole squad was there. The screech in Michael’s ear suddenly became unbearable, the sound amplifying six fold. 

It didn’t get better. Suddenly, Jake folded in on himself as well, his deep scream soon stacked with Chloe and Brooke's, shaking the walls, and it was almost too much. Just over all the sound, Michael could briefly make out Jeremy saying something. 

“MICHAEL!” he shouted over the shrill sound of agony. “DD-DRINK THIS.”

Jeremy threw a bottle of Red Mountain Dew over to Michael, who caught it subconsciously and immediately braced for a shock that never came. Tears pricked in his eyes.

“I… I CAN’T,” he screamed back, barely audible, even to himself. 

“MICHAEL CAN’T YOU SEE THAT THIS IS YOUR FAULT?! DRINK IT!”

He shook his head and let a set of fat tears roll down his now thin cheeks. “I CAN’T DO IT!”  
Christine doubled over next.

“WHY NOT?! MICHAEL DRINK IT AND THIS WILL STOP!”

He sobbed so harshly, it felt worse than the stabbing in his chest, the clawing in his ears, burning throat nearly enough to overpower everything else. 

“I CAN’T I CAN’T I WON’T BE ALONE AGAIN!”

Jenna was next.

“MICHAEL IF YOU DON’T DRINK IT RIGHT NOW, WE’RE OVER. I’LL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN.”

He clutched the bottle to his chest, shaking.

“DO IT. HURR—” Jeremy shrieked, the sound louder and more frightening than everything else combined, and without a second thought, Michael downed the red liquid, quickly deciding he would rather kill himself than choose not to make this end. Than choose to hurt his once-best friend.

Slowly, the screaming died down, and with each person that stopped, the screeching lighting up his own head quieted, until it was just the world spinning and a glitching Squip’s screams echoing from within the confines of his brain.

Someone screamed.

He selfishly hoped it was Jeremy.

And the world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all your support! Remember to leave a comment (I have a family to feed) and mention any mistakes I've made!


	7. Bandaging a Closed Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospital scene? Inaccurate? yes. Kinda bad? yes. Good enough to be a chapter? sure.

Michael never liked hospitals. The pristine cleanliness kept away any chance of a welcoming atmosphere, the constant scrubbing and washing and waxing wiping away warmth without a second thought. They were always so sad. Sure, plenty of good news was received within the walls, but the sobbing families and still bodies and stagnant health monitors were so overwhelmingly depressing nothing else seemed to matter.

After the painful weeks of waiting for Jeremy to move, for him to blink, for him to speak, Michael swore he would never again willingly find himself within the boundaries or those off white walls. 

But there he was, just barely waking up, eyes too tired to properly project the image of light inside his buzzing head. The screech was still there, hurtful proof of what he had done to himself, to Jeremy, to Rich. His head felt hollow. He wished he regretted taking the Squip. He wished for the relief Jeremy had felt when it was all over. He wished he didn’t still hope to hear it pop up, give him advice, assure that with time— with time Jeremy would love him, would want to be with him. 

Michael couldn’t open his eyes. Part of him didn’t want to, knowing it would mean facing everything he’d done and everything he still wanted to do. Part of him wished he had offed himself in that bathroom all those months ago; that he’d never let this get so out of control. 

He could feel he wasn't alone in the room, and as minutes passed slowly, everything become clearer. The surrounding whispers cast shadows inside his aching head, manipulation’s silhouette painfully prominent against weakness’ paper walls. Deciding there was no point in putting it off any longer, Michael forced his eyes open slightly, light burning a white barrier around them, fending off the tiled room just beyond. 

He gave himself a minute before trying again. When his eyes adjusted, he could finally just make out seven dreadfully familiar faces. Michael took a moment to scan their expressions as the group exchanged hushed whispers. Rich was there, and for that Michael couldn’t decide if he were more sad or angry.

Jeremy was there and Michael didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

Definitely scream.

No… totally cry.

He opted for silence.

Everyone was there, and Michael couldn't decide if that made him happy or not. 

He didn’t say anything. Instead, Michael stared with open eyes, willing them not to gloss over and spill, until Rich finally looked over and stopped talking instantly.

“Guys holy shit, he’s up.” 

The room erupted into cheers and relieved sighs, hugs that meant everything but couldn't help but feel like nothing. Jeremy hugged him last, and Michael didn’t understand the emotion on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed angrily, eyes squinted into a cold glare, but tears streamed down his face as he hugged Michael tighter than anyone else had dared to. 

“Let’s give them some space,” someone said— deep voice and hushed tone leading Michael to suspect Jake. A protest followed, lisp giving Rich away, and it made him want to cry.

Michael hadn’t been alone with Jeremy since… well, since the last time. And that didn’t go too well, so he went into this situation with low expectations and lower self esteem.

“Before you say anything,” Jeremy began, voice sharp and biting. Michael hadn’t planned to. “Tell me why.”

He averted his gaze and opted for staring at the old tiles below the legs of his creaky hospital bed. 

“I… can’t.”

“What does that mean?!” Jeremy asked throwing his hands into the air in what seemed to be defeat.

Michael retreated into a hushed whisper Jeremy wouldn’t be able to hear unless he cared enough to try. “I’m sorry I took the Squip, it didn’t mean—  _ I _ didn’t mean to make you mad.” Tears fled from his eyes, jumping from his cheeks onto the rough linens. 

Jeremy stood quickly, knocking over his plastic chair in the process, turning around and starting an arrhythmic pace in the small space accompanying Michael’s bed.

“I’m not mad you  _ took _ a Squip! I’m mad because I  _ know  _ why! You said you forgave me, so why take it?” He clenched a hand in his hair. “Are you hoping it hurts me like it hurt you? The way  _ I _ hurt you?! Did you know it would reactivate mine? That it would reactivate Rich’s?! It this all for petty revenge?!” Michael stared up at him shock, broken sobs pushing through his throat as cold tears streamed down his face. “Well?! Answer me!”

Unable to find the words right to voice how wrong he was, Michael shook his head frantically, eyes squeezed shut just tight enough to create an aching lightshow from behind their lids. He could feel his tear licked cheeks burn with apologies and excuses and reasons trying to escape, but remain unable to slip past his teeth, so he stayed silent. 

“Then what?! What happened that was so terrible you risked ruining everything. Again! Don’t you remember what happened last time?!”

“It… y-you're,” Michael gasped, up to the ears in fear and pain and panic, drowning himself under their weight. “I couldn’t!” he cried.

“Couldn’t what?!” Jeremy yelled, finally standing still to try and meet Michael’s eyes, which evaded him at every chance. 

“Couldn’t do it anymore, okay?! You— again. I just.. I couldn’t—”

Michael’s body jolted forwards with a sob so violent Jeremy was momentarily tricked into thinking it was another shock. In a moment, he forced himself to calm and sat back down by the side of Michael’s bed, tentatively reaching out and grabbing his arm. Thinner than he remembered. 

Michael sobbed harder and was breathing so heavily it hurt to hear him. 

“Michael, please. I need you to tell me why.”

He clutched the front of his hospital gown and took a few deep breaths, limbs shaking, but mind clear enough to speak.

“You did it again,” he whispered hoarsely. “You did it again, you did, and I don’t know what I did wrong. I just wanted to be  _ right _ .”

“What do you mean,” Jeremy sounded frantic and it made Michael feel guilty. He never wanted this. “What did I do?”

Michael turned his head away and allowed himself a second to build the courage. 

“You left me, Jeremy.” 

And even Michael was surprised by the sturdiness in his tone.

“You left me again and this time there’s no overpriced tic-tac to blame. I just wanted to be… I just wanted to be good enough for you, Jeremy.”

“Michael…” 

“Can you please just,” he pushed all his vulnerability, all his pain, all his… everything into his words best he could. “Just at least tell me what’s wrong with me. What to fix?”

 

**_—————————-_ **

 

Regret stabbed Jeremy deep as he watched his response of silence send a look horribly close to fear through Michael’s eyes. He rushed through memories of the past two months with a pitiful hope in his head that what Michael was saying wasn’t true. Any texts? Calls? Hangouts?

None.

“Nothing,” he whispered, eyes wide in a way akin to a deer meeting death in the middle of a road. 

“I- I don’t…” Michael shook his head, and let a few tears slip from his reddened eyes, bare arms hurrying to wipe away the snot leaking from his nose.

“You didn’t do anything wrong…”

“But I—”

“Oh my god, I ignored you for months and when you tried to ‘fix’ yourself I pushed you away?!” He was on his feet again, hands tugging at his hair hard enough to look painful, black converse skidding across the floor as he came to sudden stops, quick to start up again. 

“And in the hallway I glared at you?! After everything you’ve forgiven me for?! Holy shit Michael… Holy shit, I’ve fucked up again haven’t I?”

And even his Squip hinted at it. His literally fucking Squip, an evil supercomputer from Japan, was better to his self proclaimed “best friend” than he was! Jeremy's eyes stung with tears and he smacked the side of his head to keep them from falling. He didn’t have any right to cry. 

He slowly rose his head to meet Michael’s eyes, which met his hesitantly before Michael finally opened his mouth to speak.

“If anyone fucked up it’s me,” he said dryly, head lowering. “I’m the one that couldn’t last a day without attention.”

“It wasn’t a day!” Jeremy shouted quickly. “It was what? A month?!”  
“Two,” he mumbled.

Jeremy ran a hand down his face, leaving a trail of red in the spots he rubbed particularly hard. He collapsed again beside Michael’s bed.

“I understand if you hate me,” he said.

“I could say the same thing.”

“Why, though? Why aren’t you mad at me?”

Michael smiled sadly, gazing hollowly into Jeremy’s eyes, the contact so intentional he wanted to shrink beneath its weight.

“I don’t think I ever could be. Jeremy,” Michael touched his hand, to which his face burned. “It doesn’t matter if you scream at me, hit me, tell me to die… I’ll never hate you. I couldn’t, even if I want to.”

He didn’t want to believe what he heard. The selfishness in his head wanted it to be left at that, a silent acceptance of that simply being how it was, how it would always be. But something felt amiss in the sufferance of such a thing.

“Michael that’s… horrible.”

His friend’s face fell drastically, but Jeremy, against the clawed guilt rising like bile in his throat, willed himself to continue anyways. Because it needed to be said.

“Sometimes… I think you love people because they’re there. And it doesn’t matter what they’re there for. I just need you to think about how miserable I’ve made you for a moment.”

“Jeremy, I—”

“Please, just for a minute.”

And Jeremy sat, in silence, watching his friend look down at his shaking hands with glossy eyes, reading transcripts of memories they both knew he would rather forget and move on from, shoving them away into the locked box in the farthest, darkest corner of his mind. When a tear slipped down his cheek was when Jeremy called it.

“And now, really thinking about it,” damn, keeping those tears down was getting harder and harder. “tell me if that person, that person you just thought about… is someone you really want in your life.”

Jeremy forgot how hard it was to speak through a closed throat, and couldn’t even imagine what his friend was going through right then. He braced himself for the realization, the epiphany that he wasn’t a good friend, let alone someone worth changing for. No one like Michael should ever have to change. 

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I understand,” Michael said. “that you were busy, and I know all about your crazy tunnel vision. And I know that you’ve hurt me… more than once. But I can’t let you go.”

Tears finally escaped from Jeremy’s eyes, but his friend didn’t seem to mind, his eyes maybe having been too blurred with tears of their own to notice.

“I’m sorry for storming out and telling you to… you know,” Jeremy trailed off.

“I just want things to be normal.”

“They will be,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Michael softly, heart cracking as bare arms latched onto him with such strength it seemed Michael was afraid of him floating away. 

When they finally pulled back from each other, Jeremy could feel something he knew better than not to expect. The warmth was still gone, familiar scent of weed long replaced by something new and empty. Michael… looked different. His hair was messy and pieces fell in his face, his body was thinned, jaw was prominent, and his sweatshirt was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar and insignificant hospital gown Jeremy hoped to never see again. But it was still Michael. And for some reason, that wasn’t enough to comfort him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the coolest people and I love reading your comments so please keep leaving them, they're what drive me to keep this going! Thanks for reading, and I'll update soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Michael’s parents were courteous enough to cover the expense of hospital bills and even sent a postcard telling their son to get well soon. Jeremy was courteous enough to be there to receive it. With Rich.  
It was the first hangout since Michael returned home from the hospital with a bottle of painkillers and a pamphlet on eating right, which he kept carefully hidden from the others. He had heard plenty of things about eating disorders and the “pussies that have them” to know it was something best kept secret.   
At first, it had just been Jeremy coming over, but Rich had insisted on joining to quote “keep Jeremy in line”, which Michael didn’t entirely get considering they had both ignored him. So, tensions were tight enough to walk across in the cold basement air as the three sat in a line, Michael the only one on the floor, after quite a bit of fight on his side, playing Mario Kart. As normal, Michael won every game, but after Jeremy threw his head back and groaned from coming in 6th for the hundredth time, he started making sure to finish at least one place behind him.  
He didn’t want Jeremy to think he was bragging. That would be rude. What if he left again because Michael was acting like an obnoxious show pony? Rich came in last every race, and laughed it off every time saying “bad luck” and calling for a do over. So, as to keep Rich on his side as well, Michael would occasionally run into walls, fall off the map, forget to use items, or just start driving backwards. Bragging wasn’t cool.   
After a while, Rich began complaining about being hungry, and although jokingly, Michael felt stupid. Of course they were hungry why didn’t… the Squip tell him. Oh. So, they ventured upstairs and Jeremy made quick work of pulling out some bread and peanut butter, telling Michael to sit down, rest, don’t worry about it. So, Michael hoisted himself up on the counter because he thought it would look cooler than sitting in a chair. He waited for confirmation that never came. Rich found his six cup pack of jell-o and teased him playfully.   
Was jell-o uncool? Of course it was! Only little kids liked jell-o and he didn’t even have parents to blame it on. God, he might as well of had Scooby Doo fruit snacks… which he did. Oh no.  
He was cut off mentally when Rich asked where the spoons were, then promptly dug into one of the cups, followed by another and another. Once three cups were in the recycling (is recycling cool?) and Jeremy had his sandwich, no crust (was that cool?), the trio walked back down to the basement and plopped in their previous spots.  
“Michael, you didn’t get anything to eat, did you?” Jeremy asked, looking down from his beanbag throne. “Hold on, I’ll go grab you something.”  
“No, it’s fine. I ate a big breakfast,” he responded, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.   
“Yeah but you didn’t eat lunch and it’s like 11 o'clock,” Rich piped up, giving Michael a look he would almost describe as knowing.   
“Guys, really I’m fine.”  
“Are you feeling sick? Do you want some ibuprofen?” Jeremy began to stand, but stopped and looked at Michael with surprise, like he had the pieces spread out but just completed the puzzle and now the picture was clear.  
Michael sensed this and jumped into what he would call ‘panic mode’, in which he tried to sound smooth and casual— always failing.  
“No! I-I’m fine! Here, I’ll eat something.”  
He walked upstairs quickly, shoulders square and stiff, and was just able to catch the weird look shared by Jeremy and Rich as he disappeared.  
What was something cool to eat, but also low in calorie and wouldn’t make him feel full? The last thing he needed was to throw up. That was only acceptable at raging parties, and only if you’re drunk. Jell-o? But Rich ate that, and he didn’t want to look like he was copying. An apple? Then he would have to get up to toss the core, or his hands would get all sticky and that’s gross. He missed the voice telling him what to do for everything to work out. He finally decided on a cup of triscuits and walked back downstairs.  
From the gaping door frame, Michael was just able to make out the hushed sound of whispering coming from his basement-turned-bedroom, but found himself unable to decipher between the voices, let alone words. Tone was masked by low volume, topic buried under the rug discreetly. But Michael didn’t have to hear.  
They were probably talking about how weird he’s acting. God, being cool was not for him. Why did he think he could do this without the Squip? How had he ever done it without the Squip?!   
Deciding it was best to simply rip the bandage off, Michael trekked down the stairs loudly, a clear sign he was coming down so they would shut up and leave him to self deprecate in awkward silence.   
“So, Michael, how’re you doing?” Rich prompted when he sat down, untouched crackers set aside immediately.   
The silence in his head was maddening.  
“I’m good, why?”   
“Jeremy and I,” Rich gestured to the lanky teen, who looked ready to explode with nerves in that nervous way only Jeremy could full off. “were wondering if you would be willing to talk to us about the Squip.”  
Michael was drowning in the hollowness of quiet.  
“What's there to talk about,” he tried to respond, but the words came out jumbled and awkward.   
“We wanted to talk about the effects, ya know, figure out everything that went wrong…”  
Jeremy looked like he was about to cry, and it was enough to make Michael want to do the same.   
“Why… why is it gone?” Michael choked out.  
Rich looked surprised in turn, clearly not have expecting such a question to start off with. “Remember… after the play? How when Jeremy’s Squip activated all the others, we only had to destroy one?”  
“...oh.”  
“H-hey, Michael?” Jeremy finally spoke up. “What did it make you do?”  
“What?”  
“I-I mean,” his face reddened, but he pushed on anyways, clearly having a point to reach. “It wouldn’t let me, ya know, jerk off? And it wouldn’t let Rich speak with a lisp. What did it… take from you?”   
“I don’t think I can talk abou-”  
“Did it starve you?” Jeremy whispered, looking straight through Rich and onto Michael, who froze in place, stomach queasy.  
He needed a save, someone to tell him how to cover it up, but the hole in his head, now ever present, wasn’t going to fill just because he willed it to.  
“No, I starved myself. It was just trying to make me better. My Squip didn’t do anything wrong!”  
The pairs of eyes gazing from their static positions bored through his skin, drilled relentlessly into bone after bone, shattering his ribcages and residing in his lungs, freeing the oxygen to escape them. He wanted to gasp for air, pray for a deep, clear breath, but every time he did it was painful and dry, like inhaling desert sand. They judged and analyzed, trying to pull the thoughts from his mind without the extra step of opening his mouth, and when they couldn’t make it past the walls of his pounding skull, the interrogation continued.  
Rich was first to speak up after the outburst.  
“Michael, do you… miss it?” he grimaced with every word, as if he were walking barefoot across plains of sharpened problems and self-hatred crafted knives to meet Michael on the other side.  
“He— it, I mean. Was going to do it. It was going to help me, he… it said so.”  
Jeremy shuddered, an action so small it would have gone unnoticed to anyone but Michael, who would, in any other situation, have been too busy admiring the way his dim basement lights crafted a golden halo on the top of Jeremy’s head. Rich followed the gaze, until his eyes fell on the tall teen as well, who, instead of sinking under the spotlight, took it as a prompting to provide more for the depressing conversation.   
“This was all because you wanted to hang out more?”  
“Jeremy—” Rich started, voice sounding firm.  
“It started because I couldn’t stand being alone in my head anymore. When you were there… “  
Jeremy got up and wrapped his arms around him so lightly, Michael could have convinced himself it was nothing more than the ghost of touch he had craved, a cruel trick played on him by his own brain. Rich joining in made everything more real, his arms planted more solidly, giving off more warmth, and if his brain could have pulled off something so vivid, Michael would have been impressed.  
“You’re not alone. I promise, never again,” Jeremy’s breath was hot on his neck and rather unexpected, but Michael let himself melt under the touch and absorb all the things he couldn’t recently.   
“And now you have me too,” Rich’s breath was a mere brush compared to Jeremy’s, but the words held a similar weight.  
Michael let them ground him, feeling their hearts and breath and warmth, letting everything set in and keep him from floating away into the black sea of coldness and depth inescapable by the lightest feather. He let his throat relax, breathing calm, and for that moment, allowed himself believe what they said was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thanks for making it this far. The end is approaching, but fear not, the gay is coming. Leave comments and kudos if you haven't already and I'll see you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy, new fic. Leave any errors you find in the comments, along with any feedback or criticism. Thanks for reading!


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